


this could be easy

by adeleblaircassiedanser, fucktherights



Series: this could be easy [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pining, Semi-Public Sex, Semi-consensual infidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13901901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adeleblaircassiedanser/pseuds/adeleblaircassiedanser, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fucktherights/pseuds/fucktherights
Summary: “What?” Willie says indignantly. “No! Fuck you. It’s casual.”“Willie,” Alex says. “You don’t do casual. You hate casual.”“I can do casual if I want to.”“Okay, then name one person you’ve slept with twice and not had feelings for.”“Auston,” Willie says, huffing.





	1. sick and full of pride

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part in a series, but it's The Big One. The prequel takes place last season, and this will probably make more sense if you've read that first. HUGE thanks to Charlotte and hotcrosbuns for betaing this on super short notice!
> 
> Fic title from "Under the Table" by Banks. Chapter title from "Drive" by Halsey.
> 
> More specific content warnings in the end notes just in case they're a little spoilery.

It’s the end of his shift at the end of a game that’s gone into OT, and Willie’s gassed. He gets the puck, though, and has a clear lane to take it down the ice, so he puts all his energy into a last burst of speed out of his end and through the neutral zone. When he locks eyes with Auston and feeds it across, he knows they have it before it even hits Auston’s stick.

They slam into each other behind the net, the impact lifting Willie off the ground and knocking the wind out of him. The crowd roars, but it sounds distant, fuzzy, compared to the crystal-clear “Fuck yes, baby!” from Auston right in his ear.

Willie’s body feels numb, his mind blank, and he clings to Auston like a lifeline. For a second he flashes back to their first game together, their first goal together, the rush of adrenaline and pride and perfect chemistry he felt, both on the ice and then later that night.

And then the rest of the team crashes into them, the noise of the stadium roaring in Willie’s ears. He lets go of Auston to celebrate with the boys.

-

They’re a tactile team, especially in the locker room, and especially after a win. No one’s shy about hugs or shoulder rubs or ass pats; they all wrestle and dick around in various states of undress.

Even so, Willie knows he’s being over the top. He’s glued to Auston’s side, slinging an arm around his shoulder and ruffling his hair and hip checking him into his locker. Auston gives him a couple sideways looks, but he rolls with it. When Auston strips his Under Armour off and Willie puts a hand on the small of his back, however, Auston spins to face him and leans in right next to Willie’s ear.

“Reel it in, Will,” he mutters, breath fluttering against Willie’s cheek, and then moves past Willie towards the showers. Willie feels his face heat up, equal parts mortified and turned on, and starts shoving his stuff into his bag haphazardly while he tries to shake it off. At least it doesn’t seem like anyone else noticed. 

-

Auston sits with Mitch on the flight home, as usual, and Willie sits one row back and across the aisle, which gives him an unfortunately good view of Auston’s thick neck and shoulders. Zach falls asleep next to Willie in minutes, leaving him alone to stare at Auston and squirm.

He doesn’t know why he’s so keyed up. He and Auston score together all the time. They’ve already scored together this season, even, but it’s been a while since it was as _dirty_ as that. Just a perfect feed and a perfect game winner and a massive endorphin rush that, for some reason, has gone straight to his dick.

When the plane lands an hour later, Willie catches up with Auston as they’re leaving the airport. He wound himself up into knots on the plane, and now he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet and biting his bottom lip raw. Auston raises an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, so listen...” Willie starts, then trails off, casting around for a tactful way to tell Auston he’s been half-hard for the past hour. There’s probably not really a tactful way, is there? _Fuck it,_ he decides, and goes for the direct approach. “Listen, I know we haven’t done this in a while, but I wanna blow you.”

Auston stares at him, eyebrow still raised, expression still blank. Willie bites his lip and fidgets a little, but he doesn’t look away. It’s not like he can take it back, anyway. Not like he wants to. 

After a few seconds, Auston slow-smirks. “Damn, Will, I forgot that your dick gets hard every time I score.” Cocky asshole. Willie raises an eyebrow back at him, feigning composure.

“Is that a yes?”

-

They get an Uber together back to the hotel where Willie’s living, and Willie is crawling out of his skin. He can’t look away from Auston: his jawline, his throat when he swallows, his hands on his phone tapping out a text, the fabric of his sweatpants straining over his massive thick thighs. Willie wants to put his mouth on all of it. He feels his phone buzz with an incoming text, but he can’t tear his eyes away to check it.

Auston licks his lips and Willie tracks the movement, wants to kiss him, suck that bottom lip into his mouth and bite it, and then work his way down from there. He traces the path he wants to follow with his eyes, mouth to neck to chest to abs to crotch, and when he glances up Auston’s looking back at him, nonplussed.

“You got a text, shouldn’t you check that?”

“Uh. Okay?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. The message is from Auston. What the hell? He opens it.

_stop staring at me you weirdass_

Willie blinks, then looks back up at Auston, who’s looking at his phone again. Willie’s phone vibrates in his hand.

_we’re in toronto bro this driver definitely knows who we are, put the fuck me eyes away and play candy crush or something_

Willie blushes, hard, but Auston’s kinda right. He sends Auston the middle finger emoji, and then, because he _knows_ he’s not the only one who’s horny here, eggplant-splash-tongue. Auston rolls his eyes, but he shifts in his seat a little and takes a deep breath. Success.

-

The walk from the Uber up to Willie’s room is agonizing. There are people in the lobby, people in the elevator, even an older couple in the hallway on Willie’s floor. Willie thinks about Babs’ post-game talk to kill his boner and resolutely does not look at Auston. It’s a good thing he waited to look, too, because when he flicks the lights on in the room and finally turns to face him, Auston looks _delicious._ His hair’s still damp from his post-game shower, he’s got one big hand rubbing himself through his sweats, and he’s looking at Willie like he wants to eat him alive.

“Who’s got the fuck-me eyes now, eh?” Willie chirps, tilting his chin up a little, a challenge.

“You do,” Auston says, and crowds into Willie’s space until they’re chest to chest, mouths inches apart. Willie waits, holds his breath, expecting Auston to kiss him, but instead Auston grabs his wrist and brings Willie’s hand up to where his cock is tenting his sweatpants. Willie lets out the breath he was holding against Auston’s lips. Fuck.

“On the bed, I don’t need rug burn on my knees,” he says, but it doesn’t have the right kind of snark behind it, not when he’s this turned on. He just sounds desperate. Auston seems it too, though, flushed down his neck and breathing heavy, and he goes where Willie tells him, stripping his shirt off on the way.

Willie drags his own shirt off, and then his sweats, and crawls up the bed to straddle Auston, his dick hard and obvious in his spandex shorts. He settles his ass against Auston’s hips and grinds down a little, and Auston closes his eyes and groans. Willie grins. This is fun; he’d kind of forgotten.

He leans down and mouths at Auston’s neck, his collarbones, bites down a little and gets a gorgeous little hiss from Auston. “Fuck, Will, no marks though,” Auston says, even as he tilts his head back to give Willie better access.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Willie says, and kisses him.

There’s no buildup. It’s hard and wet and deep right away, and it’s so fucking hot. Auston’s a better kisser than he was a year ago, he’s clearly had practice, and Willie can’t help rocking his hips against Auston’s dick and swallowing the sound he gets in return.

Auston pulls back, and even with his lips red and slick and his eyes half-lidded he still manages to look smug. “Thought you were gonna blow me for getting the game winner?”

Willie rolls his eyes and mutters, “Pushy,” but he slides down between Auston’s legs and drags his pants and underwear down his thighs.

Fuck, Auston’s got a great dick. It’s thick and flushed dark at the head, already shiny with precome. Willie presses open-mouthed kisses starting at the base, working his way up, pressing his tongue to the ridge on the underside and getting everything spit-slick. When he gets to the tip, it tastes like salt and sex and it goes straight to his cock.

He wraps a hand around the base and takes the head into his mouth, working his tongue around in slow circles. Auston’s hands grip the sheets tighter. Willie would smirk, if he could with his mouth full. Instead, he takes Auston a little deeper, starting up a slow rhythm with his mouth and his hand. He lets himself drool a little, lets it drip down over his hand to ease the slide, and Auston groans again, hips lifting off the bed to push into Willie’s mouth. Willie pulls off with a wet _pop._

“Okay, don’t like, choke me, bro,” he says, working his hand steadily. He ducks his head again, but Auston stops him.

“Wait, but can I like…” Auston trails off, eyes dark, staring at Willie’s lips.

“You wanna fuck my mouth?” Willie asks after a couple seconds of meaningful silence.

“Fuck, yeah,” Auston says. He drags his thumb over Willie’s bottom lip, pushes it into his mouth to press down on his tongue.

Willie sucks a little distractedly, and thinks about it. He doesn’t love getting his mouth fucked. He’s only done it a couple times, because he hates choking. But it would also be pretty hot to have Auston in control, to have him set the rhythm and get himself off using Willie’s mouth. Willie pulls Auston’s thumb out of his mouth and says, “Okay. I mean, yeah, if you go easy. I really don’t wanna choke on it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Auston says in lieu of an actual response. He fists both hands into Willie’s hair and drags him down towards his cock again. Willie gets himself comfortable, finds a good angle, and then lets go of the base of Auston’s cock and taps his hip as a go-ahead.

Auston starts slow, which Willie appreciates; Auston’s not small and he needs some time to get used to it. Auston pushes in a little further with each thrust, holding Willie in place by his hair, and Willie relaxes his throat and takes it. He starts drooling again when Auston pushes past his gag reflex into his throat, and he can’t swallow it and breathe and not choke all at the same time. Spit coats his chin and Auston’s balls, dripping down into his pubes and making everything wet and sloppy and unbelievably fucking hot.

Auston speeds up his rhythm a little, and Willie’s eyes start to water. It blurs his vision, so he can’t see Auston’s face anymore, but he can hear him breathing, heavy and erratic, and feel the muscles in his thighs tense and release. He can feel Auston’s cock getting harder too, impossibly, hot and unyielding against his tongue, and he closes his eyes to take it all in, rutting his hips into the mattress. He’s been so turned on for so fucking long. He needs to come, but this is supposed to be about Auston’s game winner. He’s gonna get Auston there first.

“Shit, I’m close,” Auston says. His rhythm stutters and he pushes in too far, too fast, and Willie promptly chokes. He pulls back against Auston’s grip on his hair, off Auston’s cock, coughing and attempting a death glare with his eyes streaming.

“God fucking damn it, bro,” Willie says, his voice thoroughly fucked up.

“Come back, fuck, sorry, please,” Auston groans. He’s jerking himself off, hand sliding through the mess of spit and precome, and he looks wrecked, still right on the edge. Willie catches his breath for a second, but he does want to finish this. He wants to taste it when Auston comes.

“Fine,” he says, “but I’m not going all the way back down. You blew it.” He opens his mouth, sticks his tongue out and presses it flat under the head of Auston’s dick.

Auston grabs Willie’s hair again with his free hand, not pulling him down, just keeping him there, and strokes himself tight and fast for a few more seconds before he tenses up. He makes an utterly ridiculous scrunched-up face and comes onto Willie’s tongue.

Willie waits him out, gently sucks on the head of his dick through the aftershocks, but then he sits up and shoves his spandex down, finally getting a hand on his dick. It feels so fucking good, and it takes him about ten strokes to come all over Auston’s still-softening cock--the sight of which sends a wave of overwhelming arousal through his barely-post-orgasm body, which frankly shouldn’t even be possible after coming that hard.

He collapses, rolls over so he’s not crushing Auston’s leg and tries to breathe. He’s at eye-level with Auston’s crotch, and he watches Auston drag his fingers along his dick, spreading Willie’s come and spit around, and feels his dick kick _again_ when Auston presses his slick, filthy fingers to Willie’s bottom lip. Willie opens up on autopilot and licks his own come off Auston’s fingers, sliding his tongue between them and scraping the knuckles with his teeth when he pulls back.

“Fucking hell,” Auston says, and then drops back against the pillows with a weak laugh.

\---

Last year, they went a month after they first hooked up before they did it again. This year, they don’t make it a week.

They win both games of their Tuesday/Wednesday back-to-back, beating the Caps and Detroit, so a bunch of the guys decide to capitalize on their Thursday off with a club night. Willie’s still wiped- two games in two nights will never not be brutal- but he’s also got a weird energy itching under his skin that he’s hoping to expend tonight with alcohol and dancing. Once he’s got a beer in hand, he makes his way into the dance floor with Naz and Mitch and their girls. Within a couple minutes, a girl with dark hair and a pretty mouth catches his eye and finds her way over to him. She says hi, bites her lip, turns herself around and presses back against him, grinding to the rhythm of whatever bass-heavy song is blasting through the club. _Alright_ , he thinks, _that works._

He lets the girl do most of the work for a couple songs, keeping the rhythm she’s setting with one hand on her hip. She’s hot as hell, and he finds himself staring at the swell of her ass pressed to his crotch when she arches her back a little. His dick’s into it, but he doesn’t want to be a total creep and get hard against her ass, so he grabs her hand and spins her around so they’re pressed together face to face. She winds an arm around his neck and slides her hand into his hair, bites her lip and quirks an eyebrow. Fuck it. He leans down and kisses her, tastes vodka and lipstick on her mouth when he slips his tongue in. She’s got her legs slotted between his, still moving her hips to the beat of the music, and after a minute Willie has to pull back from the kiss before his half-hard dick becomes a more serious problem.

She doesn’t seem to mind, just grins and turns back around again and keeps dancing. Willie takes a deep breath and looks around for his teammates. Connor and Hyms are dancing a few feet away, Mitch and Naz are back at the bar getting more drinks, and Auston is- fuck.

Auston is staring right at him. Auston has been watching him make out with this girl, touch her, grind against her. He looks flushed, hungry - he looks turned on.

And Willie’s already wound up, already half hard, so when Auston walks up behind him, surrounded by their teammates and their teammates’ partners, and leans over and says “meet me in the bathroom, I wanna blow you” right into his ear, loud enough to hear over the music but quiet enough that the girl still grinding on Willie’s dick doesn’t hear- yeah, Willie doesn’t hesitate.

-

He gives Auston maybe a three minute head start, then kills his drink and dips. The club is nice, so the VIP bathroom is one of those big family style ones, no stalls or anything, even a weird couch type thing on the side of the room. Willie has a feeling that fabric is pandemic-level disgusting, though, worse than the walls and floor, which probably at least get cleaned every now and then. He locks the door behind him. 

“Hey,” he says, a little quiet, a little mindful of the number of people milling around just outside the door. 

“Hey,” Auston says, and crosses the room to crowd Willie against the door, both hands going to his hips. Willie immediately tilts his chin up, mouth opening instinctively. Auston’s tipsy, which makes his kiss a little too sloppy, but it’s hot anyway. It’s a little familiar now, maybe, the way they fit together. The way Auston makes him feel almost small. 

After a few minutes, Willie pulls back; Auston’s mouth goes immediately to his neck. “Not that making out like high schoolers isn’t fun,” Willie says, pinching Auston’s side a little bit. It forces a giggle out of him, muffled against Willie’s throat. “But I was promised oral sex? A blow job? Do you know where I could find that?”

“Pushy,” Auston says, nipping at Willie’s neck one more time before he drops to his knees on the tile floor. 

“Shout out to dress codes,” Willie says, a little breathlessly. “At least your knees are actually covered today, this could have been gross.”

“It’s a little gross anyway,” Auston points out as he undoes Willie’s belt. “Also, shut up.”

“If I can still talk, that means _you’re_ not doing your job, dum dum. Blowjob 101.” Auston raises an eyebrow at him. “Okay, so get me hard already,” Willie says. “You know what to do.”

To be totally fair, Willie _is_ sporting an impressive half chub just from the fucking sight of Auston kneeling and looking up at him. That plus the fact that this was Matty’s idea, that he was willing to go down first - an offer he’s never made before - in the middle of a bar because he apparently couldn’t wait; all this is doing it for Willie. Auston doesn’t need any support for his massive ego, though, so Willie keeps quiet. 

Auston unbuttons Willie’s pants and pulls both his jeans and his boxer briefs down to his knees. His hands are a bit clumsy- or, at least, clumsy for _Auston Matthews_ , whose hands are never less than perfect. Willie wonders whether he’s underestimating how drunk Auston is. He considers offering an out, since the whole public bathroom thing is stupidly risky, anyway- but then Auston grips his hips and dives in suddenly, filling his mouth all at once like he’s forgotten he has a gag reflex. The enthusiasm is hot and everything, but when Auston quickly pulls off coughing, Willie stops him. 

“Dude, everyone we know is out there, I’m not gonna fuck your mouth. Your eyes are red already, Jesus. You look like I murdered your dog. Calm down.”

It’s not just Auston’s watery eyes that are red; he looks like he’s blushing all over. He giggles a little at Willie’s half-assed joke. 

“Fine,” he says. He sounds a little petulant, and a little hoarse. _Fuck_. “What do you want, then? A handjob?”

“No,” Willie says patiently. “I mean, just use your hand at the bottom like a normal person, so you don’t fucking choke.”

Auston shrugs and complies. Willie tilts his head back against the door and looks at the ceiling. Auston’s hand is so big that he’s only using his mouth around the head, occasionally dipping down an inch further, then pulling back, slow and tight. He swirls his tongue around the tip and then sucks gently, bobbing his head in tiny increments, and it feels unbelievably, brain-meltingly good. Willie wants to look down, but then he’ll definitely come, and he is not going to come yet. He digs his nails into his palm as a reminder. 

He’s definitely getting there, though. “Ohh god,” he groans, and Auston pulls off. “Why are you stopping?” Willie says immediately, looking down at Auston. Which was a mistake, because Auston’s mouth is red and spit-shiny and his hand is huge around Willie’s cock and he’s flushed down his neck, like Willie’s dick in his mouth has him close to coming, too. Jesus. 

“Sorry,” Auston says. 

“Just keep doing it like that,” Willie says, trying to keep his voice even. “You can take me a little deeper, though.” 

Auston obliges and bobs halfway down a couple times, humming. The vibrations feel incredible, Willie’s getting so close, but then-

“Whoa!” Willie pulls his hips back and his dick slips out of Auston’s mouth. “Watch your teeth, you fucking monster!”

“What?” Auston says.

“I said, don’t fucking bite me,” Willie says incredulously. “God, you’re lucky you’re good at hockey. Is this what you do? Just go around chomping on people’s junk?” 

Auston looks affronted, and Willie can’t help it, he laughs, which, maybe it isn’t the nicest thing to laugh at someone who’s blowing you. But then Auston cracks too, and sits back on his heels, his face getting redder and his eyes shining again. 

“Fuck you, I didn’t _bite_ you. It wasn’t that bad,” Auston says when they’ve both calmed down a little.

“What, do you want a cookie?” Willie says. “Put your goddamn veneers away. This is the worst blowjob of my life.”

It’s not, really. Even with the two minute comedy break, Willie’s still like ninety percent of the way there. 

“Do you want to finish this? Or should I just jerk off in your mouth.”

“Either way,” Auston says, which is infuriating because it means Willie has to choose, and he’s way too hard for that. He fists a hand in Auston’s hair and drags him back in. Auston looks up through his lashes and opens his mouth, and Willie’s on the edge again before he even gets his dick back in Auston’s mouth. Auston starts sucking again, one hand at the base of Willie’s cock and one pinning his hip to the door.

He’s so close, hips starting to rock involuntarily into the heat of Auston’s mouth, when there’s a knock, vibrating the door he’s leaning against. 

“Don’t come in,” Willie says, his voice sounding a little thready with arousal and panic. Auston pulls back, but Willie’s too close, and the shot of adrenaline that just went through him pushes him over. His knees buckle as he comes- directly onto Auston’s still-open mouth, over his chin, a little ending up on one of his still-pink cheeks.

Auston doesn’t even move, god, he just takes it, and Willie hasn’t come this hard in a _long_ time. When he finally stops and collapses back against the door, Auston sits back again and wipes the come off his mouth with the back of his hand. Willie can’t stop staring at him.

“We gotta go,” Auston says. He gets up gingerly and rinses his hand under the sink, splashing some water on his face and then grabbing a paper towel for himself and one for Willie. Willie wipes the traces of come off his dick and tucks himself back into his pants before considering his exit. They can’t leave together, obviously, and the guys have probably noticed they’re gone by now, so they have to figure out how-

“Stop overthinking it,” Auston says, and he grabs Willie’s wrist and pulls him in to kiss him again, deep and wet but more controlled than before. His mouth tastes like come, and Willie’s stomach swoops with arousal again. Auston pulls back first. “You go first, I’m gonna jerk off real quick. Meet you out there.” He winks and slaps Willie’s ass, and Willie walks back out into the club on legs that feel like jello.

\---

At the end of October, when the team leaves for the California road trip, Willie learns that he has a new roommate. 

“How did you get them to switch it around?” he asks Auston incredulously as they board the plane. He doesn’t need to ask _why_ Auston did it. 

“Told them we needed to work on our chemistry,” Auston says, smirking. Willie can’t help but grin back, rolling his eyes a little. 

Auston lowers his voice. “But I’m thinking I wanna fuck you this time.”

It’s not that the blowjobs and handies they’ve stuck to so far this season have been _unsatisfying_ , but Willie loves getting fucked, and it’s rare that he gets it. The last time he did it with Auston was what, Christmas? Last January? Willie feels his whole body tingle with anticipation. 

-

They end up losing that first game in San Jose. Willie doesn’t like losing, no one does, but Auston is actually pissy about it when they get back to their hotel room. He storms around, chucking his suit jacket at the chair like it’d personally offended him and brushing his teeth way too aggressively.

“So, that sucked,” Willie says tentatively. Auston just grunts through a mouthful of toothpaste and spits. Willie casually turns towards his suitcase, starts stripping his clothes off like he’s getting ready to sleep. After making sure Auston at least glances at his bare back and chest as he goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth and take out his contacts, Willie tries again. 

“So, now that we’re roommates,” he says. “Do you know what’s funner than losing?”

Auston looks up from his phone at him, still frowning. “What,” he says flatly after Willie waits for a full ten seconds without breaking eye contact, one eyebrow raised perfectly. 

“Fucking me,” Willie says, and grins triumphantly. Auston rolls his eyes and doesn’t crack a smile but his face gets a little less murderous and he jerks his head to the side like, _Yeah, ok, go ahead._

Willie digs the lube out of his suitcase and strips off his underwear. He positions himself on his hands and knees on his bed so his ass is facing Auston, just like the last time they did this. The only difference is he’s wearing considerably less pink lace this time around. He starts opening himself up, perfunctory even though he knows he really shouldn’t rush the prep considering how long it’s been. Whatever. Last time they fucked he liked the stretch.

When he pulls his fingers out, Auston comes up behind him and grips his hips. As he lines his cock up Willie chirps, “Are you sure you’re not gonna come the second your dick’s in me again?”

“Ha ha,” Auston says. “You know that was… different.” 

“Different how?” Willie asks, even though obviously he knows. 

Auston pushes in, slow but steady, and then bends over and presses his chest to Willie’s back and whispers right in his ear. "Shut up, Will.” 

Willie arches up and fucks back into it. “Make me,” he says, even though it’s a total cliché. His voice comes out breathy- Jesus, Auston is big. This is so hot already, and Auston hasn’t really started moving yet. 

After an impatient wriggle of Willie’s hips, Auston finally does start fucking him, grinding into Willie’s ass, slow and staying pretty deep. It feels good, like really good, but it’s not what Willie wants today. 

“Fuck me like you mean it, Aus,” he says around another shaky breath. “Jesus, I won’t break.. Or are you actually scared you’re gonna come too quick again?”

“God,” Auston says, speeding up a little. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m- fuck- asking for, come on, put your enormous thighs into it.”

Finally Auston really gets going, gripping so hard on Willie’s hips that his hands are sure to leave fingerprint-shaped bruises. Auston rails him hard and fast, and after a minute Willie really does have to shut up. Or, well, not exactly, but he loses the ability to form sentences beyond “Fuck, ohh, fuck….”

“You’re loud,” Auston observes, and reassuringly he’s out of breath too. “I like that.” He runs a hand over Willie’s stomach and chest, pinches one nipple and makes Willie whine. 

“Yeah,” Willie says thoughtlessly, not sure if there was a question asked or what. 

“I take back what I said about you shutting up,” Auston says. “God, baby, you sound so hot right now.”

Willie’s dick jumps and he moves to get a hand on it. 

-

Willie’s in the shower cleaning Auston’s come off his back when his ears perk up. What with the sound of the streaming water, Willie can’t hear the exact words Auston is saying unless he concentrates, but he knows it’s his girlfriend on the phone by the tone of voice he’s using and the high pitch of the answers. Either Auston has her on speaker or he’s using FaceTime. 

Willie turns down the shower a bit so it’s quieter. 

“No, I’m just in a shitty mood because we lost,” Auston is saying. “What about you?” 

Willie can’t really hear the response, but the next thing Auston says is “How are you this drunk? It’s a Monday,” and then he laughs. 

It’s just a little uncomfortable, is all. Auston has barely even cleaned up, and he’s casually talking to his girlfriend. Willie, for his part, takes his time in the shower, scrubbing until his skin is red and his fingers are pruning. He doesn’t come out of the bathroom until he’s sure Auston is off the phone. 

“Drink some water before you go to bed, babe. Excited to see you too. Okay, night.” 

“Took you long enough,” Auston chirps when Willie opens the bathroom door. He slaps Willie’s ass through the towel on his way to take his own much-needed shower. 

-

Willie wakes up on the wrong side of the bed the day of the Ducks game, and the irritability lasts all day. He concentrates on channeling it on the ice rather than snapping at anyone- like, say, Auston- or doing anything else stupid. It works; he has a pretty good game, and they win in regulation. The win helps a little, but Willie’s still not in a great mood when they get back to their hotel room and Auston leans in to kiss him slow and dirty.

“Wanna fuck?” Auston says shamelessly when Willie pulls back to catch his breath. Willie wants to say no, but he can’t make himself mean it. He’s still vaguely annoyed with Auston, but also, good hockey makes him horny. It’d be so easy to give in...

“I mean,” he says, in a last-ditch attempt to hold out, “we don’t exactly need to cheer up tonight, given that we won.”

Auston shrugs. “So we’re celebrating. Duh.” He smirks and leans in again. Willie rolls his eyes, half at Auston and half at himself for being so easy. He tries not to smile into the kiss, but he can’t help it. Auston is so fucking annoying. 

-

Auston disappears from the visitors’ locker room pretty quickly after they lose in LA the next day. It seems to be general knowledge among the team that he’s with his girlfriend, so it’s okay that he didn’t give Willie a direct heads up. Willie figures he’ll be back to the room later that night. Not a big deal. It’s chill. 

Less chill is when Willie opens the door of their hotel room, expecting to have the room to himself, and instead finds Auston there with a guest.

“Hi, Willie,” Auston says offhandedly. Willie tips his head to one side. 

“Hi, Auston. Hi-”

“I’m Jordyn,” she says, standing up and moving across the room to hug Willie briefly. “It’s great to finally meet you.” 

Jordyn is tall- nearly as tall as Willie, model tall. She has long, dark hair in a ponytail and bright green eyes and a gorgeous smile. Maybe she really is a model, actually, and she keeps talking the whole time Willie’s quietly evaluating her, animated, describing her and Auston’s plans for the evening and how nice it is to meet Auston’s friends and teammates and how she thinks Willie played well despite the loss. 

She seems really lovely. Willie casts a couple of glances over her shoulder to where Auston’s reclined over his bed like a predatory cat, watching them. Auston meets Willie’s gaze the second time, but keeps his face blank. What the fuck, Willie wants to know, but no answers seem forthcoming. 

“Well, I mean,” Willie says, possibly too loudly. “I hope you guys have fun. I’m a little wiped, though, y’know, so I think I’m gonna crash, if that’s okay.” 

“Oh, totally,” Jordyn says, grabbing Auston’s hand to pull him up. “Sorry, we’ll get out of your way. Great to meet you!”

“You too,” Willie says, and he halfway means it. 

\---

Willie tries to bring it up with Auston after skate in St. Louis, while they’re showering and getting ready for their gameday naps. 

“So your girlfriend,” he starts, then pauses to try to find the words. 

“What about her?” 

“She seems, uh. Really great.” 

“Yeah,” Auston says, and half smiles. “She is.”

“Do you ever think maybe you shouldn’t cheat on her?” 

“Hey, fuck off, it’s not cheating,” Auston says, a little hotly. “You know she agreed to being open. She does it too.”

“Sure,” Willie says. He’s not sure how to point out the difference between picking up randoms in clubs with impunity and starting a regular, multiple-orgasms-per-week, sharing-a-room sex thing with a friend- with a teammate. They seem materially different in Willie’s mind. It’s not really his business. 

“Wait,” Auston says. “Are you judging me?”

Willie shrugs, not looking at him. “Little bit,” he says. “Not gonna lie. Just think it’s a little weird, like. Introducing your wife to your mistress? Like, she had no idea.” He looks up, tries to look reproachful.

Auston’s hair’s still wet from the shower, and it’s dripping down over his shoulders and chest since he hasn’t put on a shirt yet. He crosses his arms and Willie’s mouth goes dry watching them flex. Auston sees him watching.

“So you want to stop,” Auston says smugly. He leans against the wall and raises a brow, meeting Willie’s gaze head on. 

“Uh,” Willie says, thrown for a second by the baldness of the statement. He frowns, feeling a bit irritated. It’s not fair to put the decision on him like that- Jordyn’s not _his_ girlfriend. He’s never lied to her or promised her anything. Is stopping the right thing to do, morally and all that? Probably. But it’d be a lie to say he _wants_ to. 

“Thought so,” Auston snarks after the pause drags on, and turns away. 

“Fuck you,” Willie says, annoyed and a little horny. He goes to nap in Mitchy and Hyms’ room, because if he stays here he’s going to end up angry-fucking Auston and not get any rest at all.

\---

That night Babs takes Willie off the top line.


	2. zero fucks about it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What?” Willie says indignantly. “No! Fuck you. It’s casual.”  
> “Willie,” Alex says. “You don’t do casual. You hate casual.”  
> “I can do casual if I want to.”  
> “Okay, then name one person you’ve slept with twice and not had feelings for.”  
> “Auston,” Willie says, huffing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back!! Thanks to @hotcrosbuns for an amazing beta, again.   
> Chapter title from "True Disaster" by Tove Lo.   
> For reference if you're not familiar with the ballad of Willie and Pasta, PLEASE watch this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ps-EvDqU_VA   
> Warnings in the end notes.

“Okay, what are you not telling me,” Alex says over FaceTime.

It’s not that it’s not great being close with his younger brother, but Willie does sometimes wish that they knew each other a little less well. He’d really been trying to keep a poker face this whole conversation. 

“Fine,” he says. “So, I’m fucking Matts again.”

Alex blinks at him, looking surprised. “Again? Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, I told you after the first time, right? Last year.”

“Right, okay. So is this just like a season opener thing? Annual tradition?” 

Willie laughs. “Shut up. I mean- this wasn’t only the second time, y’know. I didn’t tell you every time but this was like… the fifth time? Sixth? Twice this week.” 

“With Auston Matthews,” Alex says. His voice sounds a bit strained. “So how does that work, exactly?”

“Well, he’s super hot. And I’m super hot, obviously,” Willie says, tossing his hair back and grinning. Alex rolls his eyes. “And our hockey is like, mega hot. So, y’know, the sex is amazing, it’s a lot of fun, no downside.”

“ _No downside?_ ” Alex says incredulously. “Willie, he’s your NHL linemate.”

“Yeah,” Willie says. “Like Pasta on SSK. It’s a chemistry thing.”

“ _Ohhh_ , I get it,” Alex says. “Like Pasta. So you’re in love with him.”

“What?” Willie says indignantly. “No! Fuck you. It’s casual.”

“Willie,” Alex says. “You don’t do casual. You hate casual.”

“I can do casual if I want to.”

“Okay, then name one person you’ve slept with twice and not had feelings for.”

“Auston,” Willie says, huffing. He hadn’t called to be interrogated, and he’s definitely not asking for Alex’s blessing or anything. This is ridiculous. Willie is a grown man. “Listen, maybe my dick is in love with him, but I’m not. You just don’t get it because you’ve never had good sex.” 

Alex looks at him with exasperation, covering his eyes with one hand. “Doesn’t he have a girlfriend or something too? Willie, this is so stupid.”

“Yeah, but the relationship- it’s, like, open. Anyway, the whole thing is not that big of a deal. He’s chill, I’m having fun. It’s really not like you’re thinking.”

“Open,” Alex says dubiously. “Well, you’re obviously not going to listen to me when I say this is going to end shittily for you. At least try to be careful, okay?”

“I’m always careful,” Willie says. It’s not a full-on lie, he really is planning to be more careful from now on. Alex just doesn’t get it, though. This isn’t a bad thing. It’s _so_ good; it feels so easy and natural that it can’t be all that wrong. 

“Sure,” Alex says. “Listen, have you talked to Dad?”

\---

Auston’s not really like anybody else. For how much time they spend together these days, at practice and after practice and a fair amount of the time in between, Willie still doesn’t have a firm grasp on how Auston thinks or feels about any given situation. 

Like now, in the semi-dark, semi-abandoned parking garage of Willie’s hotel in downtown Toronto, with Willie crouching at sort of an uncomfortable angle so as not to be stabbed in the stomach by the gearshift. Under the circumstances, he’s maintaining frankly impressive rhythm with Auston’s cock in his mouth. 

It definitely seems like Auston’s into it, just going off how hard he is and the way his balls are already drawing up under Willie’s fingers. And it’s not that Willie is _not_ into it, this is hot and he’s hard in his jeans and everything. He can feel the unavoidable sex flush on his face. It’s just that, besides the sounds of his own tongue and throat at work, it’s quiet, which is letting his mind wander. If you had asked six months or a year ago, “quiet” wouldn’t have been among Willie’s first associations with oral sex. The girls he’s been with have been generous with their positive feedback, moaning and writhing around when he did something right, enthusiastic, or else gamely giving direction when he fucked up. Eating pussy is fun, a challenge, if a bit less intuitive than sucking dick, where at least you can start out with “what would I like” and probably not end up too far off base. 

He’d started there with Pasta, his first time touching another guy like that, and somehow it hadn’t been weird at all, even from the beginning. They’d been such an indivisible unit, invincible the way teenagers are, and it had all just fallen into place. With pretty frequent reps it hadn’t taken long for Willie’s game to graduate from generic “what feels nice on a dick” to the exact rhythm and pattern and order of events that would finish Pasta off in five minutes- or, if Willie was in a teasing mood, the ways to drag it out and torture him. One time he’d made it last forty-five minutes; by the end Pasta had been tearing up and begging.

Pasta was a lot of fun like that. Loud as fuck, for one- grunting and whining and then usually shouting at least once, when he came- on top of a tendency to thrash and buck his hips until Willie had learned to hold him down. Actually, it was possible that Pasta liked the whole “being held down” thing and played up the “uncontrollable movements” thing to get it. And if Willie swallowed, Pasta would want to make out afterwards, lazily, trying to get away with a half-assed handy before Willie got frustrated and demanded more. 

But besides all that, he’d talk the whole time, saying Willie’s name and _good_ and cursing performatively in three languages. Willie always knew what he wanted, what he liked, because he was _responsive._ Willie’s hair had been long then, and Pasta would play with it the whole time- never being pushy or anything, just running his fingers through it gently and scratching the back of Willie’s neck a little.

It’d been different with Pasta though, obviously. They were kids, with access to Pasta’s shitty apartment and no adult supervision; of course they got loud. And afterwards they’d cook potatoes or noodles and eat together, maybe shower together, share clothes, try to watch a TV movie while Willie recapped the plot in English, maybe get distracted and make out on the couch a little. They slept in the same bed half the time. They only said they loved each other occasionally, on the ice after scoring a game winner or in bed when they came or, right at the end, when Boston came calling. They both knew the whole time, regardless. It was so big, so easy, so obvious that they took it for granted. “Natural chemistry,” they’d tell the reporters, and their smirks didn’t hide anything. 

It’s not like that, with Auston. They don’t cuddle or share a bed. This isn’t a love connection or anything. Yeah, they talk to reporters about their chemistry, and sure, they watch movies after practice sometimes, and maybe sometimes it turns into making out which turns into handjobs which turn into- the point is, it’s different, like, emotionally. Regardless of that little voice in the back of Willie’s head that sometimes says _I mean…._

And then just practically, the sex stuff is different. Auston’s a little more disciplined, which is good, because if he were to suddenly ram his cock into Willie’s throat right now, the gut punch via gearshift plus the choking hazard would probably result in Willie setting off the car horn. Semi-public sex is dirty and fun; actually getting caught is not. So it’s good that Auston is different, that he’s steady and predictable when they fool around. Willie would just like to know what he’s thinking, every now and then. He wonders idly how Auston would feel about this little compare and contrast exercise he’s working on. He can’t fight a smile at that, so he pulls off for a second and wipes his mouth, pretends his jaw is sore. He’s still jerking Auston at a pretty good pace with his hand. 

Willie sits up a bit, leans in to lick at Auston’s collarbone, stupidly tempted to bite down and leave a mark. “How is it?” Willie asks, and can’t believe how gravelly and turned on he sounds even with his own pants still zipped and buttoned. 

“What?” Auston blinks. 

“Uhh. The blowjob,” Willie says wryly. “Are you enjoying it. How would you rate it on a scale of 1-10.”

“Oh, you want the reviews before it’s even over?” Auston says, smiling. “Weirdass.” He sits up a little and puts on his Media Voice. “It’s a very good blowjob, Will. You know, I think we really just need to work on not taking our foot off the gas at the end, make sure we play the full 60 minutes.”

Willie feels every inch of his face bloom red, but he still huffs out a laugh. Auston’s still grinning and obviously at least half kidding, and isn’t every blowjob sort of very good by definition? He puts his mouth back to work and tries to focus on the present, the quick, repetitive motions, the changes in Auston’s breathing- he’s almost panting now, making a halfway whining sound every few breaths. Willie reaches down and adjusts himself, gives his dick a couple of squeezes to try to take the edge off. The way he’s draped across the seats of the car, the increasingly urgent movements of his hips have him basically humping the center console. Willie takes a deep breath through his nose and stills. Home stretch now; ignoring the quiet ache in both sides of his jaw, he bobs up and then goes back down, as low as he can without choking, humming and rubbing his tongue flat along the base. Auston taps his fingers against the car window. “Oh,” he breathes out. “Dude, I’m gonna-”

Willie stays down, both to minimize the mess in the car and just because he likes it. As soon as he’s finished swallowing, though, he moves on to more pressing matters, namely getting his dick out of his pants right the fuck now before they fulfill a second Lonely Island song premise for the evening. 

“Uh,” Auston says. “Do you want-I can-” 

“No, it’s fine,” Willie says, his voice stupidly tight. Holy _fuck_ he is not going to last. “Gimme something to come in. Shit.” Willie throws his head back, staring at the ceiling of the car. 

“Here,” Auston says, and then he’s reaching out for Willie’s dick, with his hand wrapped in- shit- Willie had meant a Kleenex or a leftover Starbucks wrapper or something. Auston’s got his sweaty fucking Under Armour shirt, which means he just unzipped his gym bag. The car smells disgusting. Auston hits him with four barely-even-trying strokes, impeded as he is by the damp clump of fabric in the way, and Willie, predictably, goes off like a shot. 

“I don’t know what you look so fucking smug about, dude, it’s your shirt,” Willie pants as he attempts to regain his composure. 

Auston zips the shirt back into his bag and rolls down his window. “Worth it. That was fuckin’ hot.”

“Yeah,” Willie agrees, and hopes it sounds chill and not weirdly overeager.

Auston leans over and kisses him, quick and dirty. Willie wonders if his mouth still tastes like Auston’s come. “Aight, later,” Auston says, grinning, and then hops out and walks over to his own car.

-

Auston doesn’t practice the next day. He doesn’t play in the next game, either. The team downplays it, of course, but his shoulder is definitely fucked up, and no one knows how long he’s going to be out for. Willie knows if it sucks for them, it’s gotta be a million times worse for Auston. So when he gets a text after practice that just says _i’m bored,_ he might roll his eyes a little, but he goes.

Auston lets him in, grinning despite the ice pack ace bandaged to his shoulder. Willie launches himself onto the couch and sprawls out so Auston has to shove his feet off before he can sit. Willie nudges his thigh playfully, then settles his feet in Auston’s lap.

Auston puts on a movie, something mindless and action-filled, and they watch in comfortable silence. When Auston breaks it, he’s so quiet Willie almost doesn’t hear him.

“This sucks.”

Willie looks over at Auston, who’s looking down at his lap. “What, the movie?”

Auston rolls his eyes. “No. Well, yeah, but- it just sucks when I can’t play.”

He huffs and plays with a loose thread on Willie’s jeans. He looks deflated. Willie gets hit by a wave of emotions, all mixed together and muddled but overwhelmingly _soft._ Auston’s sad, he’s bored and bummed out and Willie wants to- like, cuddle him, or something. Hold his hand. Auston looks up and meets his eyes, and Willie has no idea what his face looks like, but he feels exposed in a way he can’t get a handle on.

So, obviously, he shoves it all down and rolls off the couch onto his knees between Auston’s thighs, grinning and looking up through his eyelashes. 

“Want me to take your mind off it?”

Auston chuckles. “Hell yeah, can barely jerk off with this war wound.”

“Fuck off, you’re not even left-handed!”

~~-~~

Pasta’s bullshit to the media about jinxes and not hanging out with Willie before games was funny and all, but Willie’s got to give him a little shit for it. 

"So, uh, are we cool?” Willie asks, to the back of Pasta’s head in the hallway of the arena after the first Boston game. “Can we hang out again?" 

Pasta turns around and makes eye contact, and they’re both grinning, and then like it’s uncontrollable they start laughing and Willie leans in for the hug. Pasta’s bigger than the last time they saw each other. Willie probably is, too.

"I mean, don't you wish you would’ve come to dinner now," Willie says, "since you were going to lose anyway?" 

"Fuck you," Pasta says, and touches him again, his shoulder. It’s a gesture that coming from one of his current teammates would have been more like a friendly shove, but from Pasta it’s different somehow. Not gentle exactly, but the motion is a little more like he's pulling Willie towards him instead of pushing him away. Neither of them has stopped smiling yet. 

"This is so stupid," Willie says. "We have to go now, why didn't we just hang out yesterday like we said we were gonna." 

"If you get too many hat tricks, you know, it go to your head. I'm just trying to keep you humble." 

It's been a long time, years, since he and Pasta were- what they were to each other. But tonight Willie's tired, and he still has the urge to lean down and rest his head on Pasta's shoulder. Everything had always been so easy, with them. They'd just fit together. It was straightforward and sweet and surface level, and he'd never wondered what Pasta was thinking or how Pasta felt about him. He doesn't have to wonder now, either; he sees the same fond nostalgia he's feeling reflected back at him in Pasta's face, too. 

"Fuck you, you know I'm fucking snakebitten right now. If I don't score tomorrow it's your fault and you owe me."

"Owe you what?" 

"How about, you have to actually hang out with me next time you're in Toronto. Anyway, don’t you need to go? Did you even do media yet?" 

“Yeah, some,” Pasta says noncommittally, and goes to hug him again. There’s something really nice about it, that easy affection out here in the open, under the fluorescent lights of the ACC. It’s not like Willie is touch-starved- he’s having a reasonable amount of sex, all things considered, and obviously the locker room isn’t exactly hands-off. Team is team, though, and while it’s great, Pasta’s maybe something closer to family. Willie learned watching his father that your connection to a team is important, but impermanent. So it’s comforting, is all, to know that Pasta will still give him shit and smirk at him and miss him back; that he’ll remember who Willie is even if this goal drought lasts another ten games. 

“Okay, okay,” Willie says, pulling back and grinning again. “Clingy much? I’ll see you tomorrow, dumbass. Go.” He gives Pasta a little smack on the ass for emphasis. 

-

They’re in the hotel after another fucking amazing win in Montreal. Willie has carefully worked Auston’s dick halfway down his throat when the phone goes off. He can tell it’s Auston’s because it’s an actual ringtone, like back in middle school, and not just the standard iPhone ringer. 

Willie smirks and wipes off his mouth with one hand. “Is this Justin Timberlake?” 

“Jordyn set it, dude, I dunno.” Auston chuckles and hits the reject button.

Willie files that information away and goes back to work. Auston’s a little louder than usual today, for whatever reason, whining and moving around until Willie grins and actually holds his hips still. He’s making it good and sloppy and getting a little shivery just from Auston’s eyes on him, half-lidded but intensely focused. Willie’s jaw is starting to ache by the time the phone goes off again, but Auston fists a hand in his hair, grunts “no, don’t stop,” and rejects the call again. Willie moves a hand down to his own dick to head off the twinge of impatience. 

“Fuck yeah,” Auston says when he sees, bucking his hips and choking Willie a little. It’s okay, though, because Willie can tell he’s close, is getting ready to ask where Auston wants to come (but, like, in a way where it’s clear he wants it on his face or chest or even in his hair, shit, Willie was going to have to shower eventually anyway). 

The phone rings again, and Auston picks it up and looks at the screen.

“I’m just gonna tell her I can’t talk,” he says. 

Willie pulls off and jerks Auston with his hand for a minute, stretching out his jaw to one side and hearing it pop. 

“Okay,” he says after another couple seconds, when it seems like Auston’s waiting for an answer. 

“Hey,” Auston says into the phone, and then “ _hey_.” He moves Willie’s hand off his dick. Willie tilts his head and raises one very skeptical eyebrow. 

“She’s crying,” Auston mouths, and makes a face Willie can’t immediately interpret. Auston stands up and pulls his jeans back on, zips them. Willie wonders what response is expected from him here. _Sorry?_

“No, babe, it’s okay,” Auston is saying in a tone Willie doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. “No, obviously it’s good that you called, y’know.” There’s a pause as Auston somehow pulls his shirt on without dropping the phone. 

“No, I mean, I don’t need to call you back. Just give me one second.” Auston turns around at the door and makes a vague gesture that could just be a wave, or else could mean “five minutes, and then I want the rest of my blowjob.” Either way, he disappears into the hallway. 

Willie flops over onto his back, still awkwardly naked and half hard, and wonders if he should finish himself off or just wait. After a while he gets cold and pulls his clothes back on and checks his phone. He opens Snapchat and admires his mid-blowjob face, takes a snap and sends it to Alex, Kappy, and after a moment’s thought, Pasta as well. 

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but somehow it’s morning and Auston is high fiving him and saying “Thanks for being chill last night, bro. Obviously I owe you a beej.”

After a second Willie remembers to grin. “Make it two,” he says, and Auston sort of laughs and bumps his shoulder as he walks away. 

\--- Skate is optional on Sunday when they get back from Montreal, so Willie doesn’t skate. It’s not a big deal; he just didn’t sleep all that well, and he still has sort of a weird feeling in his stomach since last night. It’s not so much that he’s upset, although there is a lingering sense of something unfinished, sitting clammy and uncomfortable on his skin. He doesn’t hear from Auston before the Arizona game, not that he had really expected to, but he does take way too long to fall asleep for his game day nap because he keeps checking his phone. Willie’s certainly not going to be the first one to text- and say what, exactly? He can’t in good faith inquire after Jordyn’s wellbeing, although he is wracked with a semi-morbid curiosity. He’s definitely not, after a year and change of going with the admittedly shady flow, going to ask about Auston’s current relationship status. He has no explanation for why these questions are suddenly of such interest to him. He tries to tell himself that they’re not, closes his eyes and takes a shitty, too-short nap and then tries to focus on hockey. At least with hockey there are fewer questions. 

The thing is, though, Babs takes him off of their line again for the night, moves Mitch up to Auston’s wing. Willie understands all the well-adjusted reasons why a goal drought is not the end of the world or even a big deal. Auston doesn’t say anything to him about it, though, still hasn’t really spoken to him beyond the amount he interacts with every stall of the locker room before a game. So Willie plays on the fourth line, and they’re at home, and they somehow find a way to lose to the fucking Coyotes. 

Given all this, Willie is not exactly in the fucking mood when Auston and his new and improved linemate Mitch Marner bully him into coming over, to play fake video game NHL hockey. As if shitty real life NHL hockey wasn’t enough. 

Willie loves Mitch, he really does, but he hates this fucking game. He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, he can be a team player, so he just focuses on pounding beers in between his turns playing threes. Getting a little tipsy barely helps his mood, makes it even more obvious how dead tired he is, and does nothing to improve his chel performance. He’s losing to Auston like 9-3 when Auston’s phone goes off and that fucking song starts playing again. _All I want you to do is be my love,_ Justin Timberlake whines, and Willie waits for Auston to pause the game, but instead the song just keeps going. 

“You gonna get that?” Willie asks. Auston shakes his head, still focused on the screen as the buzzer goes off and he wins for like the eighth time. 

“Nah, I’ll text her later,” Auston says. Willie blinks, hazy and drunk, then throws his controller down and storms into Mitch’s kitchen. 

He rummages through the cabinets and the fridge, looking for more booze. Usually he’d at least ask first, try to be a polite guest, but today he just can’t. There’s only one beer left in the fridge, but there is vodka in the freezer. Willie grabs a glass out of a cabinet. The whole thing makes a lot of noise, and he thinks Mitch and Steph went into the other room a while ago- to fuck, probably- so of course it’s just Auston who follows him into the kitchen. _Shit_. 

“Hey bro, you good?” Auston says quietly. Willie stays facing the counter, lets Auston talk to his back. 

The thing that’s fucked up now, and shouldn’t matter, is that after the other day, the phone call from Jordyn, Willie knows that Auston does have a voice he uses when he actually cares, when he’s worried about you, and this isn’t that voice. Again, Willie reminds himself, that should not matter- for one thing, Jordyn had been really upset, crying about something. And for another thing, she’s a girl. She’s Auston’s _girlfriend_. Willie’s definitely none of those things, and he’s not even clear why he’s so pissed off- well, except that Auston apparently screens her calls in favor of shitty video games he’s played a million times, but is fine with picking up during sex. That’s a little weird by any standard. 

Suddenly and horribly, Willie starts to worry that he is going to cry. His face is hot behind his eyes and everything, and what is this even about? Auston is a douchebag, but that’s not exactly news. And yeah, it was a shitty loss, but Willie was probably thirteen the last time he threw a shit fit about a regular season loss- especially given that they’re coming off a six-game win streak. _Please_. 

“Will?” Auston says, and WIllie realizes he’s taking way too long to respond. 

“Yeah, I’m super good,” he says, and it doesn’t sound remotely convincing, but given that Auston is generally allergic to displays of emotion and doesn’t actually care, besides, he’s hoping they can just let it go. 

“Is this about the game?” Auston asks, and that’s it. Willie has lost total control of the situation. He wanted to be in bed two hours ago, and now he’s about to have a full toddler-style crying meltdown in the middle of Mitch’s apartment, and it’s not fair because it’s _obviously_ not about the fucking game. He takes another shot of vodka.

“Yeah, Matty. This is my first time losing a hockey game, so I’m pretty devastated.”

“Jeez, okay, sorry,” Auston says. “I thought maybe- I know everybody would rather you play on my line, but I’m sure Babs will switch you back next game.”

“Great,” Willie says. “Playing on your wing, the solution to all life’s little problems.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Auston says. “Will, hey. You wanna look at me?”

“Not really,” Willie says to the wall. He’s starting to feel a little sick to his stomach, and to wonder how he is going to get himself out of this situation. Obviously he can’t just start yelling _I WANNA GO HOME!_ like a child, but he’s having trouble modulating his tone or coming up with any other words to say. The vodka shots probably didn’t help. He looks around on the counter for his phone, to call an Uber, and then realizes he left it in the other room. Fuck. 

“So is something else going on? Your family’s okay, right? Alex?”

“Don’t fucking talk about my brother,” Willie’s mouth snaps. A moment too late he realizes that the venom in his tone was probably excessive. When he looks over his shoulder, Auston’s hands are up in a placating gesture. 

“Wait,” he says. “Are you crying?” Mercifully, Auston lowers his voice to a quasi-whisper, so probably only half of Mitch’s neighbors hear the question.

“No,” Willie says furiously, eyes stinging. “ _Fuck_ you. You don’t know- anything.” 

“What does that mean?” Auston reaches out and pats Willie’s shoulder, like some kind of pitying fourth-grade teacher or something. WIllie flinches, shoves his hand away.

“It means don’t fucking touch me. Get away from me right now, dude, I mean it. I’m going home.” Willie pushes past Auston into the other room and grabs his phone and jacket in one surprisingly graceful motion. He sticks his feet in his shoes while he flips blearily through his phone looking for the Uber icon. 

As soon as he finishes ordering the car Willie all but runs out of the apartment. He stops in the hallway to collect himself, leaning back against the wall and trying to draw deep breaths. He can hear Mitch, who seems to have re-emerged, and Auston talking in the kitchen, which is directly on the other side of the wall. 

“So...” Mitch is saying. “Where’d Willie go?”

“Home, I guess,” Auston says. 

“Okay...” Mitch says, sounding confused. “Didn’t you tell him you were giving him a ride, though?”

Willie looks down. The Uber is six minutes away. 

“...and he just seems wasted,” Auston is saying when Willie turns his attention back to eavesdropping. “I think maybe something happened with his brother? I don’t know.” 

“Look, I can just take him home,” Mitch says. “Let me find my shoes. What is wrong with you guys? Is this about the liney thing?”

Willie checks again. Four minutes. It’s cold outside but not that cold. He ducks into the stairwell just in case Mitch hustles enough to catch the next elevator and runs. The advantage of hurrying is by the time he sits down in the car he’s not crying anymore, which is good because this is Toronto and his driver almost definitely recognizes him.

\---

Willie hadn’t been planning to tell Alex or anyone about what happened, but he needs to get his shit together enough so he can at least act normal, and sometimes talking helps. 

“Before I start, can you just say ‘I told you so’ and get it out of the way?”

“I told you so,” Alex says. “Wait, what did I tell you?”

“Something, uh. Something not awesome happened the other night. With Auston.”

“Oh,” Alex says carefully. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” Willie says. Now that he’s made the call and everything, he sort of regrets bringing it up. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Or should I guess.”

“You’re not going to guess,” Willie says wryly. 

“Okay, then,” Alex says, “spill.”

“So we were, uh. In the hotel in Montreal, after the game. And I had, uh,” Willie turns away from the camera and blurts it out. “I had hisdickinmymouth.” 

“Okay…” Alex says after Willie fails to come up with a follow-up sentence. “And? I’m sure that’s not all you called to tell me, right?” 

“So his girlfriend called his phone. And he picked up.”

“Wait, what? While you were-”

“While I was... Yeah. I mean, he stopped me. He like, got up and left.”

“Willie, what? Who does that?”

Willie shrugs. “I don’t know. Matts, I guess.”

“Willie, tell me you don’t _like_ this guy.”

“I don’t like him. It’s not like that, I swear to God.”

“Okay, then stop. I’m serious. This shit is embarrassing.”

“Shut up,” Willie says, his face getting hot for no good reason. 

“For real, he’s treating you like a hooker or something. Stop sucking his dick for free.”

Willie laughs. “Fuck you, I do what I want.”

Alex rolls his eyes. 

\---

Willie wants to keep fucking Auston, so he does, and it’s honestly fine. Things go back to normal between them, and it’s nice to have sex as an outlet because the one thing that actually matters, his hockey, is totally fucked up. 

It starts to feel like one of those super banal recurring dreams- nowhere near interesting enough to qualify as a nightmare, but not quite specific enough to feel real. Willie goes out and skates every game, same as he ever has, and says the normal things to the reporters (on the days they’re even interested in a quote from him) about puck luck and getting good chances and whatever else. Being taken off the first line sucks, obviously. It sucks, but Willie knows Babs doesn’t mean for it to humiliate him. He just has to prove he’s better than this. Which- it’s just a cold streak. Everybody has them. 

Willie knows he’s better than this- he really does, most of the time. The second or third time the Leafs win with his ice time under twelve minutes, though, it stops feeling like a foregone conclusion that this is a temporary blip. Willie’s typically easygoing, it’s one of his better traits; he’s not moody, but he’s also not stupid. It’s a contract year, for one thing. So maybe today he’s in a mood. They don’t get back to Toronto until the afternoon after an away game, which is annoying. It’s just one in a long string of shitty days, that’s all. He tries to shove it down and act normal.

Still, on the bus, Willie sits in a row by himself. He’s surprised when, ten minutes into the ride, Auston texts him from several rows up. All he says is _what’s up,_ but that’s more than he ever usually cares to inquire. Auston always gives you only as much insight into his emotional state as he wants you to have, but it’s dangerous to underestimate his ability to pick up signals going the other way.

The thing about Auston is, he’s one of those guys who really likes helping people- or, more accurately, telling them what to do. If you complain about a problem, or you don’t know how to do something, Auston gets off on giving you direction. Willie starts to think maybe something good can come out of this mood. Technically speaking, “Why can’t I score” is a problem, and although Auston probably can’t solve it or even help, Willie can let him try. He just has to make sure to keep the neediness in check, not show his whole hand the way he had that day in Mitch’s kitchen. It should be totally possible to take advantage of being vulnerable without actually having to give up control. Piece of cake. 

_Tell you later,_ he texts back. 

_Tonight?_ Auston asks. Willie just sends back a thumbs up emoji. When the bus gets back to the stadium, Auston ditches Mitch and rides with Willie to the hotel. In the time that that takes, Willie has sort of thought better of the whole ‘being vulnerable’ idea. He figures they can just do their regular thing and Auston will forget about what was said on the bus. 

As soon as they have the room door closed behind them he kisses Auston, deep and dirty, and Auston pushes one thigh between Willie’s legs for him to grind on. This is the one thing today that doesn’t feel just a little bit off. Willie makes a note to himself: sex can cure a mood. 

They get their clothes off and make it to the bed. Auston gets him flat on his back and is halfway through fingering him open before he finally asks, “So what’s going on with you?”

“What? Nothing,” Willie says. “Give me another finger.”

Auston obliges. “It’s not nothing,” he pushes. “You’ve been weird all day.” 

Willie huffs and shifts his weight up onto his forearms. “I play better with you,” he says, feeling acutely aware of how much like a whining seventh grader he sounds right now. Not sexy. 

“Everybody plays better with me,” Auston says, but he cuts the cockiness of the statement with a pair of soft kisses on Willie’s shoulder. “I mean, yeah, we’re better together, but it’s not like you’re a total mess out there. It’s just a cold streak.” 

“I just don’t get how Babs expects me to score if I’m never on the ice.” 

“Babs expects you to get hot again, which you will. I really doubt he’s worried about it for more than maybe two minutes.”

“No, I know, I just feel like I’m fucking up.” 

“So you’re fucking up,” Auston says. “It happens. Just get your shit together.” 

“Oh, okay, is that all,” Willie says, meeting Auston’s dark, blank gaze petulantly. “Just fuck me if you’re going to fuck me. I’m tired.” 

“I will,” Auston says, but he just keeps at it with his fingers. It feels good, even though Willie feels caught out and pinned, totally exposed. Auston keeps smirking at him, only breaking eye contact every so often to watch the movement of his fingers fucking into Willie’s hole. After a while he bends down and takes Willie’s cock in his mouth. 

“Ohh,” Willie says. “Wait, no, don’t- I want you to fuck me. Please just fuck me.”

Auston looks up at him, mouth full, and the amusement in his eyes seems a little less detached than usual. Willie’s chest feels hot and prickly. He wants Auston to not be looking at him so closely. 

“Oh, my god,” Willie says. “Auston, I don’t want to come like this.”

Auston keeps bobbing his head, flicking his gaze down and back up again a couple times. Willie really is getting very close, and it would be a horrible way to cap off this shitty day if he doesn’t even get fucked in exchange for spilling all his innermost insecurities. He grabs a handful of Auston’s hair and pulls him off. 

“Hey!” Auston says, his throat sounding a bit scratchy. 

“Hey yourself,” Willie says. “Get up here and fuck me.” He grabs at Auston’s shoulders, trying to pull him in. After a second Auston relents and moves to kiss Willie, lining his dick up and sinking in. He keeps pulling back to look at Willie. 

“Shit, that feels good,” Willie says. Apparently this mood is a sharing mood. “You should always fuck me like this, it’s so good.”

“You mean face to face?” 

“Yeah,” Willie says, although he hadn’t exactly thought of it that way. So much for self-preservation. There’s something so tempting, though, about knowing Auston knows who he’s fucking the whole time. Even if it means Auston can watch everything Willie thinks and feels play out on his stupid face. 

When they finish, Auston drops his weight on top of Willie and kisses him, slow and sloppy, and the bottom drops out of Willie’s stomach like _oh, fuck._ Obviously he knew Alex was right all along; he knows himself and how he tends to get attached. But it’s only in this moment that he realizes how much trouble he’s really in. 

\---

Willie knows it’s a bad idea to keep going and he’s going to do it anyway. He doesn’t have to justify himself. Auston is fucking great- he could happen to anyone. They make magic together, hockey-wise. Plus Willie hasn’t gotten dicked down on the regular like this since he was a teenager. The Kappy-and-Annika thing was fun, if sporadic, and that had mostly been blowjob focused. There are definite downsides and risks to fucking around with teammates, but it’s by far the easiest way to get fucked the way he wants without the hassle. He’s not sure what would happen if he tried it with some random Grindr dude, but it’s unlikely it would correlate with Babs deciding to give him more ice time. Anyway, Auston takes him the fuck _apart_. It’s a whole different thing. 

It’s like- one day in early December, Willie’s wearing a new pair of jeans- an early Christmas gift from his mom- and when he walks into the room Auston literally gives him a once-over and goes “Nice,” with that fucking smirk on his face, and there are other people in the room and it should be the most ridiculous, tacky thing. Willie smirks back and manages to act mostly chill and everything, but something about the intensity of that look made him shivery. When Auston looks at you like that, like he’s king of the world and you’re the only other person in on the joke- well, it makes Willie stupid, that look. It makes him do stupid stuff. 

\---

A week later, one stupid thing Willie does is text Auston back. In the minutes afterwards, Willie’s trying to breathe normally, to school his features, to stop thinking so fucking much just for a _second_. He’d really thought about saying no when he’d first gotten the text, a booty call at 11PM, what a fucking cliché. What made him say yes was that he couldn’t figure out what Auston’s reaction would even be to a ‘no.’ Would he just jerk off? Call Jordyn? They’re on again this week. Maybe pick up another girl. Maybe just fall asleep and forget he’d even asked. Willie wasn’t at all sure that his answer _mattered,_ which somehow had translated into watching his fingers typing “yaeh for sure come over” too fast even to notice the typo. 

Stupid fingers. Willie pulls them out of his ass- he’s ready, or ready enough, honestly he doesn’t give a flying fuck tonight that they have a game tomorrow. At worst he’ll feel it in the morning. He wipes his hand clean on the comforter and blows a breath out through his cheeks, then starts gnawing on his bottom lip as he listens to Auston padding back into the main bedroom from wherever the fuck he was for the last five minutes; it’s not that big of a suite. He was in the kitchenette, apparently, because he hands Willie a cold bottle of Gatorade, smirking lazily. 

“Think you’re hot shit, huh, Matty?” He’s not sure the ratio of bitterness to humor in his tone is quite right, but there’s nothing he can do about that right now. 

“Little bit,” Auston shrugs, taking a gulp and putting the cap back on his own bottle. He sets it down on the nightstand and picks up the condom packet. 

Willie rolls his eyes. 

“Anyway,” Auston says, “You like it.” He jerks himself until he’s hard enough to slide the condom on. God, this is a bad idea. Willie’s not so crazy turned on that his brain’s offline the way it usually is, so he can tell already, rather than the usual routine where it hits him right after he comes. Auston pulls him forward by the thighs to the edge of the bed, and he’s almost smiling as he goes to line himself up. 

Willie still feels a little sick to his stomach, his sense of self-preservation trying to warn him, but Auston’s hands on him feel just as good as they always do, and that electric feeling is louder, and then he’s dragging Auston down by the neck for a messy, open-mouthed kiss, and that quiets the sickness. Willie throws his head back at the stretch- he really should have prepped a little more- and Auston licks the side of his neck. Willie can’t hold back the sound that comes out at that, and Auston grunts in agreement or appreciation and hitches Willie’s hips up a little to get a better angle. _Fuck._

“You’re quiet,” Auston says, panting, after a couple minutes. 

“Am I?” Willie says, mentally patting himself on the back for managing it when all he can think are wild thoughts about how right this feels. Willie is not a stupid person. He knows this is both wrong and wrong-headed, that it’s going to end in disaster, that it’s been a disaster this whole time, but some stupid thing inside of him just sings with it, the rightness of Auston’s body with his, the goodness of it. That part, Stupid Willie, doesn’t care about the team or the season or Willie’s contract or his future career or Auston’s fucked-up open relationship with a literal model. That’s the part that hums and tilts his chin up so Auston will kiss him again. 

“Yeah,” Auston says. “You’re too quiet, it’s weird.” 

“Maybe you should do better, then,” Willie says. “Make me feel it, hotshot.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Auston says, and squeezes Willie’s side where he’s super ticklish. Willie laughs, unable to help it, and then unable to stop once he sees Auston laughing back, gleeful, present, perfect. Willie’s stomach twists. 

“Go fuck yourself,” Willie says, and drags a hand through his hair until it’s covering his eyes. He misses his long hair. With it short like this it can’t hide whatever horrible thing his face is doing from Auston, but at least it can stop him from seeing what Auston’s face is doing back. From the way he feels, raw and hot and shamed, he’s surprised to reach down and find himself still hard. He bears down on Auston’s cock, savoring the fullness for a moment. This angle is fucking unreal, every time, and he’s suddenly, stupidly close. If it keeps going exactly like this he’s going to come, soon, and it’s going to be such a good one, too, he’s tingling already in his legs and arms. 

“Wait,” Willie says. “Fuck. Stop.” Auston pulls out, looking a little confused and a lot sex-stupid.

“I’m gonna turn over,” Willie says, flipping over onto his hands and knees. He stares down at the sheets, blinking fast and feeling a cold relief at not having to stare into the sun anymore.

“You can fuck me like this, okay? Your favorite, right, ‘cause you can watch your cock splitting my ass open? It’s good,” he says, a little cajolingly, because Auston’s just standing there. 

“You said you liked it the other way,” Auston says after a second. “You said the angle was better.”

“I like both, okay? And you like both. Don’t be an ass, just fuck me.” 

Auston obliges with no further debate, setting up a good pace and letting out the occasional grunt. Willie is less keyed up now, but he’d thought Auston was closer to coming than this. He gets sort of a sinking feeling as the minutes tick by, his arms getting a little tired of holding him up. Usually there’d be a lot of noise right now, if Auston liked it, if he was getting close. Honestly, if Auston’s not into it anymore they should just stop. Willie should have stopped this before it started, actually. 

“Is it-” he starts, and then has to clear his throat because his voice came out sounding way too raw. 

“What?” Auston asks breathily, slowing down a little.

“Is it… okay? Like this? It feels okay?”

“What the fuck, dude,” Auston says. “What is with you today?”

“We can stop, if you want.” 

“No, I don’t want to fucking stop,” Auston says, and whines. “Shit. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Obviously it feels okay. It feels so fucking good.” 

On his last breath Auston lets out a sound and drops his head to rest between Willie’s shoulderblades. He sounds like he might be laughing, or else just breathing really hard. 

“You feel so fucking good, Will. So good for me, god, you’re always so tight,” and he reaches around and grabs Willie’s dick and _Jesus._

“Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna come.” 

“Already? Go for it, babe, I wanna feel it.” 

_Babe._ Fuck. It’s totally obvious that Auston only said it because he’s close, out of it, forgot he wasn’t with his fucking girlfriend, but does that matter to Stupid Willie’s stupid dick? No. He comes just like that, and there’s a lot of it. Auston keeps jerking him until it’s all out, until Willie’s a little sore, and bats his hand away and moves so Auston’s dick slides out of him. He’s way too sensitive on every level to keep getting fucked right now. 

He flips over and lets Auston come on his chest, now that he’s at least in enough of his right mind to keep a straight face. “Nice one,” Auston says. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Willie says, wiping his chest off with fistful of tissues. “You should probably get going, flight’s early tomorrow.” 

Auston gives him kind of a weird look, but he goes. 

\--- 

The next day the training staff puts out that Auston has concussion symptoms. 

“You seemed okay last night,” Willie says, walking over to Auston in the locker room. 

“No, I got kind of a headache on the way home,” Auston says. “And then I threw up, which they said to watch out for.”

“Gross,” Willie says. “So…” he trails off. 

“So?” Auston says, tilting his head. He’s wearing a baseball cap, which he does several times a week and which has no effect on Willie whatsoever. Just- he has a nice face, okay. That’s objectively true. 

“We should probably stop, right?” Willie says. 

“Stop?” Auston raises both eyebrows. “You want to stop?”

“Just for a while,” Willie says. “Since you’re concussed, or whatever.” 

Auston looks nonplussed. “Yeah, fine,” he says after a second. “See you later,” he says, and claps Willie on the shoulder as he gets up to leave the room. 

It’s not that Willie had _expected_ Auston to care, but somehow the fact that he doesn’t turns Willie’s stomach anyway. Which is just another sign that stopping is a good idea, before Willie and his stupid feelings can make things even weirder. It’s just not worth it, even for what’s probably the best sex Willie’s ever had. 

He texts Alex about it, just because it’s his first instinct. 

_I ended things (with auston)_

_Good tbh!!!!!!!!_ Alex writes back. _Merry Christmas to everyone!_

Afterwards Willie wonders if he should have held off. He’d said to Auston that the break was going to be temporary, and it seems likely that if Auston still wants him when his concussion is… over? Cured? Whatever- it seems likely that Willie will go along with it. He’s just bought himself some time, is all. 

Time is good, though. Willie can focus on hockey for a while. Maybe score some goals, even. Make sure his spot on Auston’s line is secure for whenever he makes it back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: explicit language, semi-public sex, boys being callous and insensitive, infidelity (semi-consensual)
> 
> Let us know if there's anything else you think we should warn for!

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: explicit language, boys being callous and insensitive, consensual sex under the influence of alcohol, infidelity (semi-consensual, arrangement addressed in prequel)


End file.
